


The Stars of the Sea Are the Same for the Land

by smaragdbird



Category: The Silmarillion and other histories of Middle-Earth - J. R. R. Tolkien
Genre: Alternate Universe - Canon Divergence, Falling In Love, First Time, Getting Together, Loneliness, M/M, Nightmares
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-02-24
Updated: 2017-02-24
Packaged: 2018-09-26 13:37:25
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 6,354
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/9899951
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/smaragdbird/pseuds/smaragdbird
Summary: Tuor meets Voronwe who is supposed to lead him to Gondolin. They never really stop travelling, some rests on their journey are just longer than others.





	

**Author's Note:**

> Written for [this ](http://hobbit-kink.livejournal.com/2320.html?thread=3243792#t3243792) prompt

Tuor blinked. His head hurt from Ulmo’s booming voice and from sleeping on the floor. Water and wind had long since rotted any bed that had remained. But the grey figure down at the beach didn’t vanish. Unbidden a name came to his lips that he had never heard, had never even known before. “Voronwe!” He called as he climbed down stairs that had been made slick and eroded by the wind, the sea and time. “Voronwe!”

The figure turned its head. It was an elf, a man, his wet clothes clinging to him and his damp, dark hair hanging around his face like strings. He squinted at Tuor as if he wasn’t sure what he was seeing was real.

“Voronwe”, Tuor said and fell to his knees in the sand next to him.

“Who are you?” Voronwe asked. “For a moment I thought you were an elf but now I can see that you’re a mortal. How do you know my name?”

“I am Tuor, son of Huor and Rian and I know your name because Lord Ulmo chose you to lead me to Turgon’s hidden city.” Tuor said those words quickly and it felt almost as if they were not completely his own.

Voronwe raised a hand to Tuor’s chin and Tuor shivered at the touch but he held Voronwe’s eyes. They were grey, he noticed, grey like the sea behind them. At last Voronwe found what he was looking for in Tuor’s eyes and let go of him. “I had wondered why Lord Ulmo would spare me from Osses’ fury and return me to the shore when he let everyone else be taken.”

There was sadness in his voice that touched Tuor’s heart. “Come”, he said, raising to his feet and offering Voronwe his hand, “You need to dry off and then we can prepare for our journey.”

Voronwe took Tuor’s hand and Tuor helped him onto his feet. He swayed a little as if he was feeling faint or was not used to the feeling of steady ground yet. Maybe both. Tuor wrapped an arm around his waist and laid Voronwe’s arm across his shoulder to support him further.

“Thank you”, Voronwe said. His voice sounded rusty and unused. Perhaps he had been alone for a long time, just like Tuor had. “Can you tell me what year it is?”

“495th year of the sun.”

A faraway expression cast itself over Voronwe’s face. “If you need my help then the shadow in the north is not yet defeated.”

“No”, Tuor replied. “He grows stronger by the day and fewer and fewer are left to oppose him.”

“I’d say all hope is lost then if I hadn’t heard Lord Ulmo speak from your voice. Perhaps my people are not as forsaken as we have thought.”

It was the note of hope in Voronwe’s voice more than anything else that impressed the importance of his mission on Tuor. He led Voronwe to the house where he had slept for the past days and rekindled the fire. No orcs dared to enter Vinyamar. They thought it was cursed and they were scared of the sea since their master had no power there.

/

They stayed in Vinyamar for the rest of the day. Voronwe had fallen asleep next to the fire before Tuor could offer him food or dry clothes and he looked so exhausted that Tuor didn’t wake him. Instead he put Ulmo’s cloak over him and left to put his spear in the great hall as a sign that he had been here.

Voronwe was still asleep when he came back and after Tuor had added more wood to the fire he joined him for a nap. Although he didn’t know where Gondolin was he knew the journey there would be long and dangerous and he should take what rest he could get.

It was dark when he woke up and the fire had nearly burned down. Next to him Voronwe shifted in his sleep, muttering words in a language Tuor did not understand. He looked pained as if caught in a nightmare and Tuor thought it would be prudent to wake him.

“Voronwe, Voronwe wake up”, Tuor said, shaking his shoulder slightly. Suddenly Voronwe’s eyes sprang open and his hand closed around Tuor’s wrist in an iron grip. For a moment Voronwe stared at Tuor as if he didn’t know who he was.

“I am Tuor”, Tuor said, “And we are in Vinyamar. You are safe, Voronwe.”

Voronwe blinked slowly and eased his grip on Tuor’s wrist. “I’m sorry”, he said as he sat up, Ulmo’s cloak slipping from his shoulders.

“It was just a nightmare. I know they’re more intense for elves than for men”, Tuor said and rummaged around his bag for something to eat. He had scoured the city too but Vinyamar had been abandoned too long ago and food that had been left had spoiled in the meanwhile.

“How?”

“What?”

“How do you know about that?” Voronwe said.

“I was raised by elves”, Tuor said. “My mother found refuge with them when the shadow gave this land to the traitors after the Nirnaeth Ardoniad. She left to be with my father and so I was raised by Annael and his people until...” he trailed off, his face darkening when he remembered the ambush.

Voronwe touching his shoulder brought him back from his dark memories. “Then, in a way, we are kin. My mother belonged to the Sindar of Mithrim, of Cirdan’s people and I inherited her love for the sea. That is why my king chose me among other to sail across the great Belegaer to ask for help against the shadow.”

“Do you still love it?” Tuor asked, not sure if the question was too intimate.

Voronwe smiled although it was tinged with sadness. “Despite what happened to me I doubt that I can ever feel content away from the ocean. It is in my blood.”

“Do you want to eat first?”

“Is it fish?” Voronwe asked apprehensively but then shook his head. “I shouldn’t be picky.”

Tuor smiled. He couldn’t tell why but he liked Voronwe. “Eaten enough fish lately?” He asked teasingly. “Don’t worry, it is not. I’m a decent hunter but not much of a fisherman I’m afraid.”

“I’m not sure if I’m relieved or wary to hear it”, Voronwe replied as he took two stripes of dried meat from the bag Tuor had given him. “Winter is coming and food will be scarce on our way. Though when it comes to the worst I still have this”, he showed Tuor a small sack, made of oil cloth and sealed with wax. “It’s Elvish waybread. A small amount will keep us from hunger and as long as the seal is unbroken it will not spoil but we should leave it until there’s no other way.”

“We could always steal from orcs should we run into any”, Tuor said. “I’ve had plenty of good meals thanks to them.”

“We should not draw attention to us if we can avoid it”, Voronwe replied.

“We won’t”, Tuor said and picked up Ulmo’s cloak. “No unfriendly eye will be able to see us under this, Lord Ulmo assured me.”

Voronwe ran his fingers reverently over the cloth. “You are indeed Lord Ulmo’s favourite if he leaves a gift like this.”

“We both are”, Tuor said with a firm grip on Voronwe’s shoulder.

/

They left the same night. Voronwe led Tuor over the south ridges of Mount Taras and into the Falas. Tuor had never been south of the Ered Wethrin before and immediately noticed how warmer and sweeter the air was. But the land was empty just as it was in the north and orcs roamed freely just a little further inland. 

They walked until the sky started to change its colours and found shelter before the sun started rising. Exhausted they crawled under Ulmo’s cloak and fell asleep closely entwined so that no stray limb could give them away during the day. Neither Tuor nor Voronwe had been this close to another being in years but neither of them objected to it or felt awkward. Instead they curled around each other as if nothing could be more natural.

They woke as the sun was setting into the ocean and Tuor thought that he had never seen anything more beautiful. The world was painted in all the shades of gold, orange and red and he could feel the sun’s warmth on his face like never before.

Then he turned to Voronwe who was bathed in the same light and who stared out onto the sea with a longing look in his eyes. “I fear it will be the last time I shall see the sea”, he said and the yearning cut into Tuor’s heart. “When I left I swore to myself to never return but the shadow is still here and my people face ever growing danger. I will bring you to Turgon’s hidden gates as Lord Ulmo commanded even if it means I can never return to the sea.”

Tuor clasped Voronwe’s shoulder. “Have faith, Voronwe. My heart tells me that your long journey shall return you to the sea eventually.”

“If you say so, Tuor, Lord Ulmo’s chosen, then I will try to believe you”, Voronwe said, covering Tuor’s hand with his own for a moment. “But for now we have to go.”

Voronwe led him east along the southern line of the Ered Wethrin. They walked during the night, setting off when the sun went down and finding shelter when it went up again. As winter was approaching fast it meant that they walked hours upon hours more than they slept but despite this they progressed slowly. Orcs and other spies of the shadow roamed the lands freely and they often had to take detours to avoid them. And keeping away from the roads meant a slow trawl through the wilderness. And despite Tuor being used to living in the wild and Voronwe being an elf, they still had to eat. Entire days were lost by finding a safe cave, followed by Tuor going hunting and Voronwe collecting firewood and edible nuts, berries and roots. The more the winter closed in on them the harder it became to forage any food but they both deemed stealing from the orcs too dangerous.

They talked a lot and although Voronwe spoke little of Gondolin and even less of his time at sea, he was more than happy to share his memories of Vinyamar when he had lived there as a child or the beauty of Nan-tathren and the elven settlements on Balar and at the haven of Sirion.

Tuor shared his upbring by Annael in the Ered Mithrim and told Voronwe about his years as an outlaw hunting orcs and eastlings alike. He didn’t talk about his time as a slave. He had no good memories about it and the days were dark enough without sharing those memories.

Despite the shelter from the Ered Wethrin the winds soon became strong and bitingly cold and when they finally reached the Forest of Nuath snow had already fallen. The woods were both a blessing and a curse. It provided them with more cover and food than the open fields of the Falas had done, but it did the same to their enemies. Not to mention that their trail was easier to follow with the footsteps they left in the snow.

/

“I would ask you how long we still have to walk to reach our destination but I know you won’t answer”, Tuor said around a yawn. It was already dawn, a dull grey light filtering through the clouds. He could barely remember what the sun looked like anymore. “I think we should find shelter soon, I can barely keep my eyes open. Voronwe?” Only now Tuor noticed that Voronwe had stopped at a nearby ledge and was looking down, not listening to a word Tuor had said.

“Voronwe, what – “He started to ask as he approached his friend but then Tuor saw it for himself. Below them was Eithel Ivrin, the source of the river Narog. Once it had been a place of great beauty but the land below them was defiled and desolated. The trees were burned or uprooted and the waters of Ivrin had been turned into a quagmire. A stink of rot hung over the glen like a despicable mist.

A cutting continued through the wreckage in a southern direction with claw marks at the edges as if a giant animal had come through here. Tuor shivered at the sight.

“I should not be surprised that this place was not spared and yet...” Voronwe trailed off, sorrow written all over his face.

Tuor wanted to say something comforting but before he could find the words he heard a voice. Without thinking twice he pulled Voronwe with him to the ground.

As he peaked over the edge he could make out a man in the glen and he was calling out names with such grief in his voice that it barely sounded human anymore. For a moment their eyes met but despite his grim appearance Tuor didn’t feel as if the man was an enemy.

The moment passed and the man continued on his way through the glen, following the cutting left by the unknown animal as he continued with his mourning.

“We should not stay here”, Tuor said as he and Voronwe rose from their temporary hiding place.

“No”, Voronwe agreed, “we should not.”

They walked until midday before they felt they were far enough from Ivrin to even think of finding a shelter. But the man they had encountered and the destruction they had witnessed left them rattled. Both of them had trouble falling asleep and once they did neither of them slept well.

Tuor was woken up when Voronwe’s elbow hit him in the stomach as he tossed and turned as if caught deep in his worst nightmare. Even during the first night in Vinyamar it hadn’t been this bad. “Voronwe?” Tuor said his name softly. They had had so little rest he didn’t want to wake Voronwe, just rouse him from his nightmare. “Voronwe.”

In an instant Voronwe was above him, pinning Tuor to the ground. His grey eyes were dark and wild like the untamed sea. He had never looked more frightening yet Tuor forced his voice to stay calm. “Voronwe, it’s me, Tuor. I am Tuor, your friend. You are safe.”

A violent shiver went through Voronwe’s body as he was finally released from his nightmare and returned to the present. “Tuor”, he said as if he needed to remind himself that he knew that name. “I’m sorry.” He slid off Tuor and rested his back against the cave wall. Outside the light was fading fast and snow was falling in thick flakes from the sky.

Voronwe drew his knees up to his chest and wrapped his arms around them. He looked impossibly vulnerable. Tuor took Ulmo’s cloak and put it around Voronwe’s shoulders but as he wanted to whithdraw Voronwe stopped him with a simple hand covering Tuor’s.

“Did I ever tell you how long I was at sea?”

Tuor shook his head. He didn’t feel like it was his turn to speak.

“Seven years, I was not alone but I may as well have been. The great sea is terrible, Tuor, and it hates the Noldor. It holds things worse than death: loathing and loneliness and madness. The terror of the wind, tumult, silence and shadows where all hope is lost and all living shapes pass away. It brought me to many shores, infested with danger and fear. When we finally turned the ship around I could barely remember the names of my companions, that’s how little we spoke to each other.” He rubbed a hand over his face. “I mourned them but I could not tell you what they looked like anymore and I saw them every day for those seven years.”

“It’s not your fault”, Tuor said, squeezing Voronwe’s hand.

“But why me?” Voronwe looked up at him, his grey eyes stormy like the sea they had left behind. “Why did Ulmo choose me? What have I done to deserve life when my companions didn’t?”

There was such terrible loss, such horrible grief in his voice that it cut through Tuor’s heart. He moved in front of Voronwe and cradled his face in his hands. “I don’t know the answer but I know Lord Ulmo is wise beyond anyone else’s knowledge here in Middle-earth. He chose you. That means he saw something great in you. And I for one am glad. I wouldn’t want to miss your company for all the treasures in the world. Not even if Morgoth himself would offer me the Silmaril from his crown.”

Voronwe gave him a teary smile. “You are a fool then, Tuor. But I confess that your words make my heart lighter.”

Tuor briefly leaned their foreheads together as a token of the affection he held for Voronwe. They were so close and yet he wished they could be closer together. Instead he let go of Voronwe. “We should be on our way.”

“Yes, we should be”, Voronwe said. For a moment his eyes lingered on Tuor as if there was something else he wanted to say but then the expression vanished.

The snow kept falling throughout the next days as Voronwe led them further north along the lines of Ered Wethrin. The cold left them no choice but to try and find a cave to sleep in each day or they would freeze to death. The weather was worse than any enemy they could have encountered and slowed them down even further. Slowly Tuor began to doubt if it was possible for them to reach Turgon’s hidden city alive, He was only mortal after all and this winter even took a lot out of Voronwe.

Once they had passed the three springs of Teiglin Voronwe turned east, away from the mountains and into the empty lands that had once been ruled by Nargothrond. Without the shelter of the mountains the winds became worse and there was little shelter to be found. They walked the whole night and the next day as well since there was nowhere safe for them to rest.

/

As the sun was going down Tuor rested his weight heavily on his staff and each step seemed to cost him more and more strength. He could barely keep his eyes open and would’ve fallen if not for Voronwe catching him. 

“If we sleep in those caves we could make a fire”, Voronwe said, pointing ahead to the steep sides of the frozen river Malduin.

“There might be orcs”, Tuor warned him.

“Orcs or no orcs, we’ll never reach our goal if we freeze to death on the road.”

Tuor had to concede his point. He couldn’t feel his toes anymore and the constant snowfall had turned his clothes damp and cold, the iciness seeping into his bones even through the thick cloak he was wearing. The wind wasn’t helping either.

“Then we’ll risk it”, Tuor said and set off towards the caves, Voronwe at his side.

Luck was on their side because they caves they found not only reached deep enough into the mountain that a fire wouldn’t be seen from the outside but it was also devoid of orcs and other creatures. They gathered some wood close to the entrance that hadn’t been soaked through by the snow and soon a small but warm fire was burning.

“We should dry our clothes”, Voronwe suggested.

“You go first then. One of us has to keep watch”, Tuor replied. Despite the weeks they had spent in each other’s company, he felt uncomfortable at the thought of taking his clothes off in front of Voronwe. The years he had been enslaved had left scars and not all of them were on the inside. He didn’t want his friend to see how ugly he was.

Voronwe seemed to have no such thoughts and happily took the opportunity to get out of his wet clothes. Despite the years he had wandered through Beleriand and then had been lost at sea, Voronwe’s body was unmarked by time or wounds. His dark hair fell in tangles around his face and his pale skin looked warm and soft in the firelight. He had closed his eyes as he soaked in the heat, long lashes resting against cheeks that had slightly reddened from the fire. As he turned around Tuor could see that the long line of his back was smooth and unharmed, so very much unlike his own. Voronwe would surely think him fragile or even disgusting if he saw it. Then Tuor realized he was staring and turned around. He muttered a few words about keeping watch and walked towards the cave entrance. The bitter cold nearly made him regret his decision but Voronwe’s presence affected him in a way he had never experience before. He had grown up around elves and yet their perfection, their beauty had never moved him before. But Voronwe…he was different than Annael and the others from his clan even if Tuor couldn’t put in words how he was different.

“Tuor?” Voronwe’s voice and his hand on Tuor’s shoulder startled him from his thoughts. Thankfully he had wrapped himself in Ulmo’s cloak that Tuor had left in the cave. “Come back inside. Look, it started to snow again and the wind picked up. No creature will be out in this weather.”

Tuor divested himself of his clothes layer by layer and laid them close to the fire while Voronwe looked through what little food they had left. He was pulling his shirt over his head when he suddenly felt Voronwe’s hands on his bare back. 

“What happened to you?” 

“I was kept as a slave for three years. My master knew who I was and treated me accordingly.” He shivered slightly when Voronwe’s fingers gently traced the scars.

“I’m sorry”, Voronwe said, pulling back, “I did not mean to – “

Tuor turned around to look at him. “I don’t mind.” He took Voronwe’s hand, still hovering between them, and placed it on his chest. He was sure that Voronwe could feel how hard his heart was beating. 

Voronwe looked into his eyes as if he was searching for something. Tuor knew that all his hopes depended on Voronwe finding what he was looking for. His heart felt as if it was going to burst out of his chest any moment now.

“Lord Ulmo entwined our fates even more than I ever through”, Voronwe said but he didn’t pull his hand away, still allowing Tuor to hope.

“Our feelings are not a prophecy, they’re only our choice”, Tuor replied. He wanted to capture Voronwe’s lips with his, wanted to card his hands through Voronwe’s hair but most of all he wanted Voronwe to want him to or else anything else he wanted would be meaningless.

“Then you are my choice as well as my fate”, Voronwe replied and kissed him.

Tuor had never kissed someone before nor had he wanted to but as he had done so often in the past months all he had to do was follow Voronwe’s lead.

“You said you grew up amongst elves”, Voronwe said, his hand stalling Tuor’s as it tried to push Ulmo’s cloak from his shoulders. “So you know the significance of this.”

“Yes”, Tuor said huskily. “I know it. And with Eru’s blessing our souls will become one as our bodies do.” He recited the vow from memory. Annael’s community had seen few weddings but those few had been cherished.

“With Eru’s blessing our souls will become one as our bodies do”, Voronwe said as well, his hand sliding from Tuor’s, allowing him to push the cloak off.

“I’ll be your home and your shelter”, Tuor continued, “In this world or the next until the end of times.”

As soon as Voronwe had repeated the words, Tuor kissed him again, as if he wanted to crawl inside Voronwe and stay there so they could never be parted. “I love you”, Tuor said so fiercely as if he thought he still needed to convince Voronwe of it.

/

“I fear this will be the last time for us to find shelter”, Voronwe said when they left the caves of Malduin the next evening. “And orcs patrol the road from Tol Sirion to Nargothrond. We may not be able to stop until we reach our destination.”

Tuor reached out and squeezed his hand. “We made this far.” He leaned in and kissed Voronwe because he could, because he was allowed to. Knowing that his life was not just his own anymore but that Voronwe had a share of it made him feel like he could accomplish anything. Maybe this was why Beren had felt that for Luthien’s sake he could walk into Angband and do the impossible.

Voronwe returned his kiss for a moment before he pulled away. “Come or I’ll be tempted to spend the entire winter here with you.”

The wind hadn’t lessened during the day and neither had the snowfall but fortunately that afflicted the orcs much more than it did Tuor and Voronwe who were used to his weather by now. Few of the orcs were actively patrolling the road and instead most huddled around their fires.

It would be so easy to kill them that it itched in Tuor’s fingers which curled around the hilt of his sword.

“No”, Voronwe hissed, wrapping his hand around Tuor’s wrist. “If you kill them they’ll know that someone is here and then they’ll hunt for us.”

“They won’t find us”, Tuor argued. “We have the cloak.”

“The laws of my home forbid even coming near its entrance if one is being pursued by an enemy”, Voronwe reminded him. “Ulmo or not, should you attack them I will leave you behind.”

The words hurt in more than one way. Tuor closed his eyes and tried to calm his temper. He could not stand being so close to these creatures and letting them life but he could stand losing Voronwe and failing his mission even less. 

Slowly he eased his fingers from the hilt of his sword. “I’m sorry”, he said. “I was too hasty.”

“Mortals tend to be or so I’ve heard”, Voronwe replied with a smile to show that Tuor was forgiven. 

After that they kept far away from the orc fires but there were so many of them in this part of the world that sometimes they had little choice but the come closer. And so the inevitable happened.

It had been early morning already but as Voronwe had said there was no shelter and so the two of hadn’t stopped walking. Tuor had been asleep on his feet at this point when suddenly an orc horn had woken him up.

“They found us”, Voronwe whispered, staring at Tuor with wide eyes.

Tuor grabbed him and held him close as he pulled Ulmo’s cloak over both of them. Desperately they stumbled forward side by side. The orcs couldn’t see them but they could smell them and if they couldn’t lose them soon then there was no hope of escape.

“If we make it to the river we can lose them”, Tuor panted. The exertion of the last months threatened to overwhelm him. He was only a mortal after all and one that was close to reaching his limits.

“We cannot cross the Ford of Brithiach if there is any chance we are being pursued”, Voronwe replied. “I would rather die than put that risk on my people.”

“Then what should we do?” Tuor asked with despair clouding his voice.

Voronwe reached under his cloak and pulled out the sealed back he had shown Tuor in Vinyamar. Now he broke the seal and pulled out something thin and wafer-like and broke it in half. He gave Tuor one half and said, “We keep walking and hope for the best.”

As soon as he had eaten Tuor felt the strength return to his limbs and he was wide awake. He pulled Voronwe into a kiss, knowing it might be the last chance he had. “Then let us go or die.”

In the end it were the eagles of crissaegrim that saved them. Near the Ford of Brithiach they swooped down and picked at the orcs, hunted them and ripped them apart with their beaks and claws until the orcs withdrew.

Tuor and Voronwe made their way across the Sirion with the orcs none the wiser that their prey had escaped them and the water washed away any trace the orcs could’ve followed. The cries of the eagles above gave them reassurance that they were not being followed and finally Voronwe turned their steps north towards the Encircling Mountains. 

They climbed down into a river bed that had long dried out but the undoubtly once mighty torrent had left boulders and rose steeply, making the forward hard. Tuor stumbled and would’ve fallen if Voronwe had not caught him. 

“Have heart”, Voronwe said, “No more than a few days are separating us from our journey’s end. The only thing we have left to do is to follow this road.”

“If this is the road”, Tuor replied, “It’s hard on a weary wanderer. And I would’ve thought it’d be better guarded, a mighty gate fortified with a hundred archers or more was what I was expecting.”

“We’ll come to that”, Voronwe said and his face darkened, “and maybe no further. The laws of my home are harsh Tuor, and without mercy. If they do not believe us we’ll never see the hidden city.”

“I have faith”, Tuor replied. “We didn’t die in the wild and we will not die here.”

They kept walking until the sun set. Voronwe insisted that they couldn’t sleep in the river bed and led Tuor to a small cave in the southern slopes of the cissaegrim. Tuor fell asleep as soon as his head rested on the stone floor and he didn’t stir until Voronwe woke him up in the early morning. He looked apprehensive and Tuor didn’t know how to ease his worry other than by letting the things happen as Ulmo had commanded.

The further they made it up the dry river the more Tuor understood how wise the choice had been to use it as the entrance road. It was difficult to pass through and in parts they had to crawl on all fours like animals to get past. No one would think it worth the effort without knowing what lay on the other end of it.

After the exertions of their journey even Voronwe was exhausted but Tuor was on the brink of collapse. Every step he took was an effort, every breath he drew hard labour for his body and his skin was scraped raw and bloody. When they were finally stopped at the first of the seven gates Voronwe was all that was holding Tuor upright.

/

The passing of the gates seemed like a dream and later Tuor couldn’t recall most of it. He knew he had been there, knew he had talked and looked around but he could never give any details of it including his first meeting with King Turgon. Maybe it had been because Ulmo had steered him or because the exhaustion had finally caught up with him or maybe both.

He and Voronwe were separated after the audience with the king so that they could be taken care of with a bath and new clothes. Tuor would have preferred not to be away from Voronwe in this strange city where he knew no one and nothing but he also knew that it wasn’t his place to question the orders of the king.

The elf who was tasked to help him said little but Tuor could feel his curious glances on his skin. The time in the wilderness had left its marks on his body. Not only had he acquired new scars but he was also gaunt from the lack of food. His hair was a mess and had to be cut close to the skull and in accordance to the customs of elves his beard was shaved, leaving Tuor feeling exposed.

It was only when he was clean and in fresh clothes that he had the opportunity to look for Voronwe. He even refused any food, wanting to see him first.

“Hey”, Tuor said when he found Voronwe. He was standing on a balcony looking out over the city. He too had changed his clothes and instead of the barely mended rags and the cobbled together armour he wore fine clothes made from silk and velvet. His dark hair had been washed and streamed over his shoulders as if it had been carved from obsidian.

He turned around when he heard Tuor’s voice and gave him an appraising look. “I almost didn’t recognise you”, he said with a smile.

“Neither did I”, Tuor replied, eyes sparkling. He joined Voronwe at the railing, entangling their fingers. He was relieved when Voronwe didn’t retrieve his hand. Tuor had been apprehensive that now that Voronwe was back among his own people he would chalk up their union to a moment of passion and pretend it never happened. “Will your people accept us?” 

Voronwe gave him a reassuring smile. “Some will be surprised by my choice since you are a mortal and our fates are different. But you are my choice, Tuor. Never doubt that.”

“You are my choice too”, Tuor replied, his heart made lighter by Voronwe’s words.

“Have you eaten yet?” Voronwe asked.

Tuor shook his head. “I wanted to find you first. This place is beautiful but I fear I’m going to get lost many times without someone to guide me.”

“Then it seems my role is not yet fulfilled”, Voronwe replied. “And I’ll lead you to a good meal if less fancy than what would’ve been served to you here.”

Voronwe led him through the city to the house where his parents lived. Aranwe and Aerien were happy to see their son return to them. Any hesitance about his choice of partner melted away when they discovered that Tuor had been raised by Annael who did indeed claim distant kinship with Aerien’s family.

He was happy in Gondolin like he had never been before. It was a sense of belonging here, a sense of having a purpose that made him feel at home. Turgon often called on him for advice and he also forged a deep friendship with Idril, Turgon’s daughter. 

When Turgon sealed the entrance to Gondolin, it was Idril who helped him and Voronwe to build a secret passage since they all knew that Gondolin’s doom would come sooner rather than later.

Even though Turgon sealed the hidden entrance Tuor and Voronwe were not the last ones to arrive in Gondolin. Three and a half years after their arrival Thorondor brought a man to the hidden city, Hunthor of House Haleth. He had been Turin’s companion in his last fight against Glaurung but he had been injured and swept away by the waters of Teiglin. Thorondor had saved him and brought him to Gondolin since Manwe had prophesised that a scion of the House of Haleth would bring the blood of the Noldor and Vanyar among the races of men.

Idril and Tuor helped to nurse him back to health. Tuor appreciated having a friend who was mortal too and also to hear stories about his cousin whom he had never knowingly met. Idril too was fascinated by Hunthor, the man who had dared to stand up to a dragon and had survived.

There was little surprise when she chose to marry him and little than a year later their son Earendil was born. It was the last happy news for a long time to come. 

The eagles still brought news from the outside world to Gondolin and they were never good. Elu Thingol was killed in a struggle over the Silmaril with the dwarves and a scant few years later Doriath fell in the Second Kinslaying. 

With Doriath gone Morgoth would do everything in his power to find and destroy the last of the Elven kingdoms in Beleriand. The refugees in the Haven’s of Sirion were under Ulmo’s protection and untouchable but Gondolin had only survived so long because of the secrecy of its location.

And in the end that was not enough to protect it. 

If it hadn’t been for Idril’s secret pass they would’ve all died in the valley of Tumladen. It was Idril, with her son in her arms, who led the flight from Gondolin. Many died trying to defend those fleeing, Turgon, Ecthelion and Glorfindel among them and even more perished on the way south to the Haven’s of Sirion like Voronwe’s parents.

/

Years later Tuor and Voronwe stood at a different railing, looking out over the sea instead of Gondolin.

Idril was with them as well, ordering sailors around as if she had never done anything else. Hunthor had passed away last year and with Earendil grown and married she had decided to accompany Tuor and Voronwe on their journey to find Valinor.“After all”, she had said, “It is the place of my birth.

“I cannot promise you we’ll find what we’re looking for”, Voronwe said, standing next to Tuor.

“When have I needed promises to follow you?” Tuor asked back. He put his hand over Voronwe’s and entangled their fingers. “To the ends of the world if you are.”

“To the ends of the world”, Voronwe echoed and held on tight.

If they did ever find Valinor no one in Middle Earth ever heard definite proof. But amongst the legends of the Eldar and the Men it was said that eventually they did and that Tuor, as the only one of his kind, was counted amongst the Eldar.

**Author's Note:**

> Find me [ here](http://smaragdbird.tumblr.com/) on tumblr


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